


Call Me Ransom

by Cherienymphe



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: F/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28868979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherienymphe/pseuds/Cherienymphe
Summary: Ransom has always been nice to you. You never thought to question it until it was too late.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Kudos: 55





	Call Me Ransom

There were very few instances in your life where you regretted any of your choices. There was the time your aunt told you to stop messing with that small hole in the ground when you were 7. Not only did you regret disobeying her for your sake, but for your cousin’s too as the both of you were chased by bees. Once, in middle school, your best friend had told you not to go out with the most popular boy in your grade. You found out why when you realized he’d only asked you out on a dare.

When every member of the Thrombey family told you how horrible Ransom Drysdale was, you didn’t listen.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe them, per say. Sure, you’d seen how horribly he treated his relatives. How nasty he was to Fran, and sometimes Marta too. You’d seen it with your own eyes, and while it definitely bothered you, you couldn’t help but feel that he couldn’t be all bad. After all, he was so nice to you. He had been from the very first moment you’d been hired.

Fran was friends with your mother, and when freshman year of college came around, and you were in desperate need of a job, Fran was the one to put in a good word for you with Harlan Thrombey himself. He was an old eccentric man, full of so much life at his age. You’d seen how he behaved with Marta and often found yourself hoping you never lost your spirit either when you got that old.

Your first encounter with Ransom wasn’t the best as far as first impressions went. It was during winter break of the first year you’d gotten hired. You’d only been working there for a few months but had still yet to see the infamous “shit stain” as Meg liked to call him. You were helping Fran, in the process of going from room to room, changing the sheets. You weren’t aware that he was home, and so when you opened the door of one of the guest bedrooms, you were met with the half-naked sight of him. He was in the process of changing clothes, and the sight startled you, causing you to drop the sheets you were carrying before hurrying out of the room, a thousand apologies slipping out.

When he found you, you were downstairs, wiping down a window, trying to erase the memory of his bare chest and thick thighs from your mind. You felt him rather than heard him and turned to face him with a fright. He was so close, and you stumbled back as he ran his blue eyes over you with an unreadable expression. You had swallowed, glancing down at the sheets in his hand before hesitantly taking them as he handed them to you.

“Hugh, I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that you were here, and if I’d had any idea I would have knocked.”

You were quick to stutter out an apology. After all, you’d heard the worst things of him for months, and you were genuinely afraid of losing your job because you walked in on Hugh Ransom Thrombey while he was changing clothes. He was an asshole, everyone had told you, and you believed it. He made “the help” call him Hugh for Christ’s sake.

He didn’t respond at first, simply opting for looking down his nose at you. You took another step back, heart racing as he eyed you. You felt like you were going to be sick as you waited for him to say something, _anything_. You were expecting the worse to come from him. An insult, a slur, a threat of losing your job, but he said none of those things. He simply said:

“Call me Ransom.”

He had brushed past you before you had time to respond to that, leaving you to blink in confusion.

It was the beginning of an odd and unexpected friendship…if you could call it that. The two of you weren’t attached at the hip or anything every time he came to the mansion, but sometimes he talked to you. Sometimes before leaving the house, he’d asked what you thought of what he was wearing. If he saw you struggling to lift something, he’d come by and help without saying a word. He’d snap at Jacob or, hell, even Linda if they were rude to you over something that was, 9 times out of 10, out of your control.

You’d always throw him a small appreciative smile, tentatively at first as you were still wary of him.

“Thank you, Hugh,” you’d say.

His reply would always be the same.

“Call me Ransom.”

It became sort of an inside joke between the two of you. You’d continue to call him Hugh, because you just didn’t feel right calling him Ransom. Not only was he technically your employer, but he still required Fran and Marta and anyone else who worked for the family to call him Hugh. It didn’t seem fair, but he would smirk every time, that strange look in his eyes as he told you to call him Ransom.

He treated you differently, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you fucking Ransom?” Meg asked you one day.

You’d blanched, eyes going wide as you paused in the middle of your dusting. She pressed the juul to her lips, briefly turning away to exhale as she waited for you to answer.

“No,” you gasped, blinking at her in confusion. “Why…why would you ask me that?”

Meg rolled her eyes before falling back into the chair.

“…because he treats you like a human being, and Ransom doesn’t treat anyone even remotely decent unless he’s fucking them…or trying to,” she explained, eyeing you.

“No,” you reiterated, frantically shaking your head.

She threw her hands up in defense.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask what no one else had the balls to,” she said, and you paused again.

You blinked, lowering your arm as you stared at her in horror.

“What does that mean?” you whispered. “D-do they think…? Does everyone think that?”

She pulled another drag before nodding.

“Yeah,” she said, exhaling with a shrug. “I mean, it’s no big deal. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Well, maybe he has no interest in doing that with the employees here anymore,” you murmured, turning back around.

You heard her scoff.

“Yeah, right. Ransom passing on the opportunity to stick his dick in anything that moves? I don’t think so…”

“Well, he has,” you defended. “He had the chance. Plenty of them, in fact.”

You didn’t know why you were so defensive. Maybe it was because you felt like he was your friend. You believed the stories about him, you did. You saw with your own eyes how he talked to Jacob and Walt, sometimes. For some reason though, he didn’t treat _you_ that way. Was Meg right?

“Look, (Y/N). I know he’s nice to you,” she started, sounding closer. “…but listen to me when I say he’s just biding his time. After all, that first chance he did have, you, how did you put it, _ran away like a scared chicken_? He’s just being smart about it this time around.”

She placed her hand on your shoulder with a sad smile as you turned to look at her.

“You’re so nice. Nicer than he deserves, and I really just wish he’d quit playing games with you. Nothing good ever comes out of it.”

You contemplated her words as she walked away, suddenly feeling foolish. Was Ransom really just playing nice, earning your trust just to strike?

A year and a half later you still thought about that conversation from time to time. Mostly on how wrong Meg had been. Ransom had never been anything but nice to you, and even you couldn’t believe he’d be that motivated to “play games” with you for the better part of two years. His odd behavior towards you still threw you for a loop, sometimes. Especially considering how cold and callous he was towards everyone else, but you’d just accepted that for whatever reason, he treated you differently.

Maybe he took pity on how skittish you were. That definitely seemed like a more plausible reason. Ransom probably thought you were a pitiful mess, not worth toying with. That was more than fine with you. On the off chance he brought a guest to the home, you saw how he treated them the morning after. How distant and malicious he was as he, sometimes quite literally, shoved them out of the door. He’d been so nice to you. You didn’t think you could handle it if he treated you that way.

You stepped into the house early that morning, prepared to begin your shift. However, you’d barely been in the mansion for five minutes when Ransom found you.

“(Y/N), there’s a broken vase upstairs that needs to be dealt with,” he said, and the way he rushed it out told you all you needed to know.

“What did you do this time?” you asked with a sigh as you straightened.

He smirked, a small chuckle escaping his lips as you followed him out of the living room and into the hallway.

“I had too much to drink last night. Decided to come by here and sleep it off. I didn’t realize I’d broken the damn thing until I woke up this morning. I’m hoping I can replace it before Harlan notices. Either that, or I’ll just tell him Fran swiped it.”

You frowned at him as you followed him up the stairs.

“Hugh,” you reprimanded.

He smirked, glancing at you.

“I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Ransom,” he said, stopping at one of the guest rooms. “It’s in here.”

You pushed the door open, walking inside to assess how big of a mess it was. You scanned the room, a frown making its way onto your face as you noted that not one thing was out of place.

“Hugh is this the right…,” you trailed off as you turned and watched him shut the door behind him. “…room?”

He chuckled, reaching behind him to lock the door, head tilting as he studied you.

“What are you doing?” you quietly asked, a feeling of dread settling in your stomach.

“I wanted to talk to you…alone,” he added as he walked towards you.

You started to take a step back before deciding against it, eyes flickering between the locked door and him.

“…okay,” you responded in an unsure tone.

However, he didn’t say anything as he approached you. Your eyes were wide, lips parting in shock when he reached out to pull you closer, leaning his head down as he tilted yours up. Your eyes remained open when his lips softly met yours, a million thoughts running through your head when he kissed you. His lips were soft, the softest you’d ever felt, and you almost let yourself enjoy it.

Almost.

You stumbled back in shock, reaching up to brush your fingers along your lips as he heaved a sigh. He sounded annoyed.

“Hugh…we can’t. I work for your grandfather and, by extension, you. I-I can’t do that,” you protested.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards just the tiniest bit. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was a smile.

“No one is going to care. Thanks to me, they already think we’re having sex every time I come around, anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a small gasp escaping you as you processed what he said.

“…what? Is that why you’ve been so kind to me? So your family would think we’re sleeping together…just to make it easier for us to actually sleep together?” you quietly asked.

“You seemed like the kind of girl who wouldn’t jump right into things. I had to soften you up somehow…”

You blinked at him, throat tightening as your eyes began to burn. His eyebrows furrowed, smirk growing as he took in your reaction.

“Did you think I was being nice to you out of the kindness of my heart?”

The way he asked that was so condescending, and it made you feel stupid. You looked away, and you heard him scoff in disbelief.

“You did,” he said, more so to himself.

You took a deep shaky breath, licking your lips as you fought not to cry. There was the most awful pain in your chest. You thought he was your friend…

“Look, Hugh…,” you started, looking at him.

His nostrils flared.

“Call me Ransom-.”

“I take my job very seriously, _Hugh_. Okay? Fran stuck her neck out to get me this job, and I’m not going to screw it up by…by _screwing you_.”

He straightened, pushing his shoulders back as he looked down his nose at you.

“I’m sorry if I led you on or made you believe something that wasn’t true. I genuinely thought you were my friend. I realize, now how foolish that was, and I’m sorry,” you whispered, walking past him.

His hand covered yours when you went to open the door, and you looked up at him. He was so close, chiseled features hardened as he hummed at you.

“Your job is to take care of the house. To keep my family happy and make our stay here as pleasant as possible whenever we come around. You’re not keeping me happy, (Y/N), and I’ll be forced to tell my grandfather that you just aren’t taking your job very seriously…”

Your eyes widened as you caught onto what he was insinuating. You stared at him like that for a painful amount of time as your heart broke for a second time that day. You swallowed, allowing the tears to finally spill over.

“You…you would do that…to me? Because I won’t _sleep_ with you?” you spat.

“It just seems to me that you don’t care about your job. I don’t think Harlan would want anyone around who doesn’t put their best effort into their work,” was his response.

You took a deep breath, lips trembling as you glared at him.

“You can tell him whatever you like. There are other jobs. I’m not going to fuck you just so I can keep this one,” you threw at him, snatching your hand away.

Neither one of you said a word as you glared at each other. His jaw clenched, and you could tell that that wasn’t what he had been expecting. Without another word, you turned back to the door, barely opening it when he slammed his hand against it, shutting it. You looked up at him with a glower.

“Hugh-.”

Your words were cut off as he wrapped his hand around your throat, slamming you against it. You gasped, fighting to get his hand off of you when you realized that his other was unbuttoning your jeans. You reach down to stop him, but it was already too late. His fingers were suddenly at your core, grazing along your sensitive flesh as you tried to twist away from him.

Your fight only fueled him, gasping when he pushed one finger inside of you, followed by another. One of your hands clenched around his wrist, trying to get him to stop while the other tried to get him to loosen his group around your neck. He bent his head, kissing along your collarbone as he stroked your walls that were slowly, but surely, becoming slick.

Tears sprung to your eyes all over again once you realized that he was tightening his grip. It was getting hard for you to breathe, and the soft pants that were leaving your lips were growing fainter and fainter. He was pulling you, forcing you towards the bed as his fingers continued to stroke that fire inside of you. When he pushed you back onto it, your vision was spinning, colors blending together, darkness kissing the edges of your sight.

When he finally let go, you were gasping for breath, struggling to sit up as your body tried to right itself. When everything finally stood still, you realized that your pants and underwear were already to your ankles, and with one final tug, Ransom had them across the room. You sat up in a panic only for him to push you back down, shushing you as soft sobs began to leave you.

“Ransom, please,” you begged him, calling him by his middle name for the first time in your life.

He paused, running his crystal gaze over your half naked form, hands sliding up your stomach to push your shirt up, exposing your breasts.

“Say it again,” he quietly ordered.

You saw the glint in his eye, and frantically shook your head.

“No, stop-!”

You cut yourself off in a panic, hands pushing against him as he undid his pants just enough for his cock to spring forward. It was angry and red and leaking with precum as he lowered himself onto you completely.

“Ransom! Ransom, stop!”

It was like you were screaming at the air. He brought one hand up to cover your mouth while the other guided himself inside of you. A guttural groan left his lips as you squeezed him, a hiss escaping between his teeth when his hips met yours. You gasped into his hand, chest heaving as your body fought to get used to the feel of him.

Sooner than you would have liked, he was pulling back only to shove himself inside of you again. His thrusts were slow, but forceful, moving the mattress with the movement. Soft pants were leaving his lips as he hovered over you, working his hips against yours. He slowly slid his hand off of your mouth, brushing his fingers along your jaw as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Say my name,” he breathed.

You frantically shook your head, fighting the pleasure that was beginning to bubble inside of you.

“No,” you refused, gasping when he increased his pace.

He reached down, pushing his arms under your thighs as he pushed your legs back towards you. An unidentifiable noise left you at the feel of this new angle. He was hitting a spot inside of you that hurt so good, and you dug your nails into his back.

“R-Ransom,” you begged.

Although, now you weren’t sure what you were begging for.

“Again,” he demanded, and you obliged.

Again, again, again. You came around him, milking him, with his name on your lips, begging him to stop. He didn’t. When you clenched around his cock for the third time, duties long unattended to, his hand was on your throat again, telling you to call him Ransom as he coated your insides with a groan.


End file.
